


what if we already are (who we've been dying to become)

by daisyjohnsons



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, aaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!, and forehead touches!!!!, and kisses bc they deserve kisses!!!, forehead kisses!!!, hugs!!!, jemma and daisy said bi rights, kind of a character study but i dont really know how to write those, they are in love!!!, writing skye and not daisy physically pained me but alas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyjohnsons/pseuds/daisyjohnsons
Summary: jemma doesn't know how to leave and skye doesn't know how to stay but maybe, just maybe, they can figure it out together.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	what if we already are (who we've been dying to become)

**Author's Note:**

> takes place in early season 2, right after jemma gets back from being undercover at hydra. mild self-harm warning, if u need to skip it's the paragraph that starts with "skye learned a ‘trick’ from one of her foster mothers" and it's that paragraph only  
> title is from four by sleeping at last

It only took Jemma a week to discover that being someone else is much easier than being herself. 

She wasn’t supposed to be someone else. Taking on an entirely new identity was too dangerous for a multitude of reasons. Coulson said that she was too recognizable due to her scientific achievements. Skye said that she was too horrible of a liar. May nodded when Coulson spoke and had to hide a smile when Skye did. Jemma did her best to pay attention to them and did her best not to look through the glass and into the lab, where Fitz was fiddling with some piece of equipment, and did her best to not look as terrible as she felt. 

She probably failed. They hadn’t brought it up either way. 

Anyways, she was supposed to be herself. Sure, a version of herself that was willing to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. for more scientific opportunities, but what scientist _hasn’t_ thought of doing exactly that? Besides her, that is. Maybe she’s less of a scientist for never considering it. She thinks she’s more of one. Either way, the other her was willing and she had to embody that sentiment and it took her a week to realize that it was _easier_ than being herself. Of course, it was only easier because she knew she would be returning to S.H.I.E.L.D. eventually. 

Agent Simmons of S.H.I.E.L.D. does not know how to leave. She never has. She clings to people and she clings to places and she keeps every memory and every photo in her heart and she memorizes Fitz’s favorite sandwich and she turns in her reports on time and does extra work after hours to see Coulson’s posture ease and she buys extra packets of May’s favorite tea and she hugs Skye just that much tighter and she actively listens to Tripp’s stories and laughs no matter how funny she finds his jokes and it makes her _happy_ to see them happy and it makes her so very sad because they have no idea how much she wishes she could leave it all behind. 

Dr. Simmons of Hydra does, though. She knows how much Jemma wants to leave and she knows how to leave and she does so without remorse. Jemma _hates_ how easy it is to be her, and hates how much she wishes she wasn’t faking.

A few doors down and yet a world away, Skye sits on her bed and tries so very hard to not think about her new home and how easy it would be to leave it without looking back. 

It shouldn’t be this easy, shouldn’t be this easy to even _think_ about, but it is. She is so used to leaving that the idea of staying is almost as frightening as the reality. She has a _home._ She has a _family_. So why can’t she just stay? Why can’t she make herself want to stay? 

There are days when she loves having this place that she is supposed to belong to. Days when Coulson affectionately messing with her hair makes her grin and swat at him, when she doesn’t flinch away from May’s proud smile, when she knows to interpret Fitz fussing over her equipment after she returns from a mission as him trying to not fuss over her and can appreciate the thought, when she can relax into Jemma’s embrace, when she can bump shoulders with Tripp, when she can give Mack a fist bump and laugh at how much bigger his hand is than hers. 

And there are days where someone says her name and reminds her that there are people who know her and she flinches, when someone touches her in a way that reminds her that there are people who _care_ about her and she spends an hour under steaming hot water, as if burning away touch is a thing that is possible.

It makes her _angry_ . Angry that she can’t accept this home, angry that she never learned how to belong to a place and to people, angry that she can’t shake the urge to leave and never look back. Because she _wants_ to want to belong here and she _wants_ to stay with these people that she loves with all her heart and she’s so _angry_ that she can’t seem to figure out _how_. 

Skye learned a ‘trick’ from one of her foster mothers, meant to help her hold her tongue. She was taught to snap a rubber band at her wrist when she got angry. It was supposed to help her recognize her anger and quiet it; it instead taught her that being in pain is better than being angry. She can’t count the number of hours she’s spent ruthlessly using the punching bag in the training room, but she wishes that a significant percentage of those hours didn’t involve her purposefully forgetting her wrist wraps and punching anyways until her knuckles were bleeding. 

She smiles anyway, though. Oh, how she smiles and laughs and jokes and grins and smothers her words in sarcasm and never lets anyone know that the tap of her foot isn’t her being energetic, that the tap of her foot is channeling her urge to _run_.

Agent Skye (with no last name and therefore no strings attached to her) has never stayed in one place for over a year. She doesn’t know if she can make herself want to stay enough to weave the string that will be used to tie her to this place and to these people. 

And there is something about the feeling of deleting every government file and every record of her existence that is always calling her name. Whatever her name is. 

Skye is almost worried about how little she’s seen of Simmons since her return from Hydra. All she’s gotten is a brief smile from across the room, a quiet _hello_ in the hallway, and no hugs. The last point is what concerns her most. Simmons is the kind of person Skye wishes she could be when it comes to touch. She’s just so _casual_ about it, a hand on a shoulder, a linked pinky, giving so many hugs that Skye associates her with the feeling of a long embrace. 

Skye is touch starved. That is a fact. She thinks it should mean that she should want as much touch as possible, but apparently her brain disagrees. It’s almost as if she’s out of practice at touching people in a way that means something because hookups come easily; what’s difficult is giving someone she cares about a hug and having to jump through mental hoops to justify it and there always has to be a high enough chance they won’t push her away. 

The thought hits her that she misses Simmons’ hugs. She misses them almost as much as she misses Simmons herself. 

_Misses_. In the present tense. Huh. She shouldn’t still miss her, Skye thinks. She’s in the base. She’s home and safe. So why does Skye still miss her?

“I’m an idiot,” she mutters. “She’s _literally_ three doors down. If I miss her I can go see her.”

A minute passes. Another.

Skye flops back on the bed and groans, glaring at the ceiling like it personally offended her. 

In a sudden moment of determination, she gets up and strides over to the door, opening it and moving to leave and being met with Simmons, hand raised and about to knock. 

“Jemma!” Skye blurts. She blushes when Simmons does, but then Simmons smiles softly and Skye feels her embarrassment fade.

“Hello, Skye,” Simmons says, her voice so very fragile and it is then that Skye notices the red in her eyes, but her eyes grow softer every second. Skye bites her lip and starts calculating. Simmons is at her door in the middle of the night. Simmons just got back from months undercover. Simmons looks like she’s about to cry and it’s breaking Skye’s heart. Skye can’t think of anything that would make Simmons push her away, so she opens her door all the way and steps back, letting Simmons in and closing it behind her.

Simmons looks over Skye’s room and smiles, a soft smile, filled with fondness and maybe something tinged with sadness. “Have you not moved all of your stuff in?”

Skye wrings her hands. She knows her room is bare compared to the others’, but she didn’t know Simmons would pick up on it this fast. “This is all of it. I just… I don’t make a habit of keeping more than can fit in a box.”

Simmons barely flinches, but Skye still notices. “Right, right. Sorry.”

“Simmons.” She turns and Skye takes in the sight of her, still shorter than her by a couple inches, still with warm eyes and a dash of freckles. Even just looking at her comforts Skye, soothes her more than anything ever has. “Jemma, are you okay?”

Simmons scoffs and shrugs, a tense smile on her face. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m home now, aren’t I?”

“Are you?” Skye says, not thinking about it. “Sorry, it’s just that you haven’t been yourself since you got back and,” she trails off and doesn’t know if she doesn’t want to admit this next part to Simmons or to herself, “and I miss you.”

Simmons takes in a sharp breath and tears up and Skye almost regrets her words, but then she says, “I miss you, too”, and Skye forgets to calculate the chances of being pushed away and holds out her arms. Simmons practically throws her arms around Skye’s neck, pulling her down and forcing her body to curve, but Skye wraps her arms around her waist and clings tighter than she ever has, buries her face in Simmons’ hair and sighs. 

“I’m home, Skye,” Simmons whispers. Her fingers twist in Skye’s hair and Skye feels tension she didn’t know _existed_ leave her body.

“Yeah. We both are, now.”

Simmons pulls back, standing on her tippy toes. Skye continues to cling to her waist, but Simmons doesn’t step away. She uses the hand she has on the back of Skye’s head to pull her down, brushes aside her bangs, and kisses her forehead. Skye sighs and relaxes into the touch. It makes her feel so unbelievably at _home_ , more so than anything else ever has, and it’s the kind of touch that Skye wants to remember for the rest of her life. When Simmons pulls back, she settles back on her feet and looks up at Skye, gaze so gentle and so kind and so, so tired. Skye doesn’t think when she moves; she abandons all hesitation and moves with her instincts as she intertwines her fingers with Simmons’ and pulls her to the bed. She slides as far to the other side as she can, but Simmons pulls her back and so they lay there, facing each other, pinkies linked in between them.

“I don’t know how to come back,” Simmons whispers, so softly that Skye almost misses it.

“What do you mean?”

Simmons sighs and her pinky tightens around Skye’s. “I missed you all, so so much, while I was gone. But it was _easier_ . Not having to care. I mean,” her voice speeds up, “of course I _cared_ but I was pretending I _didn’t_ and it _felt_ like I didn’t and—”

“Jemma.” Simmons falls silent and Skye smiles at her. “I get it. I know what you’re saying.”

Simmons is quiet for a moment. “I think it was just easier to be someone who didn’t care so much than it was to be me. This sounds _wrong_ , but I almost wish I didn’t care so much.”

Skye lifts the hand that isn’t linked with Simmons’s and brushes a piece of hair back from her face. “Jemma, why do you think I haven’t left yet?”

Simmons startles and Skye almost laughs. “It’s a habit for me, now. Leaving. Caring less does make it easier to leave, but for me, caring more makes it harder to _stay_.”

“Then what other option is there?”

Skye moves a little closer and pulls Simmons’ hand to her chest. “There isn’t one. So you choose the one that’s harder. It doesn’t get easier, but,” she pulls Simmons’ hand to her lips this time and kisses the back of her knuckles, “having a home makes it worth it.”

Simmons makes a sound almost like a whimper, and then shocks Skye by sitting up, climbing across the bed and pushing Skye onto her back and settling down on her stomach in a fluid yet clumsy motion. “I am going to kiss you now. Please tell me if that’s not alright with you.”

Skye nods quickly, staring at Simmons’ lips until they’re too close to see, and then she loses focus and she loses herself in the feeling of Simmons’ lips on hers. 

Or, well, she doesn’t lose herself. She does go somewhere, though. She goes home. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! hope u enjoyed, if u wanna yell about aos with me on twitter i'm @ isabelovelace


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